


Sparrows

by Paradox_Box



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradox_Box/pseuds/Paradox_Box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>x-In a post-apocalyptic world, who else is there to hold but each other?-x Slight SLASH, ZaDR of a different kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparrows

It was dark outside; the cars' headlights were turned off, and Dib wouldn't be surprised if a car bashed into them anytime soon; it wasn't as though they were in the least bit visible. Crickets chirped for a few seconds until they stopped altogether; Dib figured something ate them, because stupid things like that always seemed to happen.

Dib and Zita were sitting leniently in Zita's car. It was parked on the side of the road – where, Dib wasn't completely sure; they simply stopped driving and decided to sit for a while – and the moon gave them a small slither of light, but it wasn't enough to drive safely. Zita voiced that they stay put for a while, which Dib didn't understand, because as the night went on, the sky would only grow darker and darker until Dib wouldn't be able to make out Zita's porcelain features, and staring at his own hands would make his eyes cross over and start to water.

Bored with the silence, Zita blurted out some random blurb Zim told her earlier in the week. It wasn't until Dib gazed at him, irate, that he realized what he said.

"I'm not following you completely," Dib said with an unprepared expression. "I honestly don't believe he would do something that stupid."

"He's going to," Zita insisted. "Trust me. He was rambling on about it yesterday in History." He checked the window, as if Zim would be standing outside, waiting for them.

"If he told you, he knew you were going to tell me, so he's probably doing the opposite of what we think he's going to do," Dib explained. "Trust me; he's a genius at this kind of manipulation."

"You're over thinking it," Zita said with a huff. "I'm telling you now so you can prepare and we don't have to drag this out. Don't you think we spend enough time thinking about Zim?"

"I don't think about him," Dib said harshly. "I hate the fucker."

"You're still thinking about him when you're hating him," Zita said and avoided Dib's fiery gaze. "It was almost unhealthy. You're pretty much obsessing over him."

"I am in no way obsessing over Zim of all people," Dib said, disgusted. "Back to the point, though. If he's going to try to "burn my house down" as you said, then he's probably going to flood it or something. Right? Opposites."

"Stop it," Zita said with a demanding tone. "I'm not kidding; you're overreacting. He's not really going to do anything, so do you think we could just hang out for once instead of ranting or obsessing over Zim? It's getting pretty old. He's not capable of this stuff, anyway."

"Oh, Zita, he's capable of so much," Dib said with a forced laugh. "You don't even know. The dumbass comes up with these vile thoughts while he's sleeping."

"Dib," Zita muttered.

"What?" Dib snapped; he hated being interrupted.

"Just shut up," Zita said and pressed her lips against the older male's.

Dib jerked back. "Zita!" He didn't want to think about what Torque would do to him if he found out.

"Dib!" Neither did she.

"Christ!"

Zita looked away. "Shut up, will you? You don't have to freak out over every little thing. Can't you just forget your logic and morals for once?"

"I don't…I…"

"What?" Zita said angrily. "You can't do this because you're in love with Zim? Is that it, Dib? It was that, isn't it? You're constantly obsessing over him; this isn't a shock; I should have anticipated it." She shook his head. "I'm out of here." Fuming, she unlocked the door and stumbled out of her car.

"Damn it, Zita!" Dib crawled across the seats and grabbed forcefully onto Zita's arm. "Where were you going?"

"Away. I don't know. Home."

"Get back in here," Dib demanded. He tugged on Zita's arm and drew her back into the car. "Look. I hate him, all right? There is no way those feelings could ever be mistaken for love, at all." He tightened his grip on Zita's arm, nervous. "I love you, okay? You, Zita Craff."

Zita flashed a perfect but sad smile. "No, you don't."

"Shut up," Dib mumbled and slid his hand down until it reached Zita's. "What do you want to do? It's getting kind of late."

"It's one AM," Zita said wryly. "It's already late." She sucked in a breath of air to calm herself; her hand was shaking in Dib's grip, and she was thankful Dib grabbed the hand that wasn't sweaty from nerves. "Maybe we should just get home, huh?"

"I guess," Dib agreed and started up the car. "You be my eyes."

Zita didn't answer, because she wanted to answer to so much more.

They slowed down as they entered their neighborhood. "Want to just stay over? It's not like we have school tomorrow, and it won't wake your dad." Zita said.

"Yeah. Okay." Dib collected his thoughts, shooed away the butterflies in his stomach, and tried to act casual. He wasn't sure when he stopped being able to interact with Zita without feeling like puking. "That way we won't have to drive your car back really quick in the morning."

"Of course," Zita said and parked on the curb of her house. "Let's get inside; it's cold as heck out here."

"Wow. It is late; I'm so tired. You sure we won't wake your parents?"

"It's better than waking Trent. He actually has some stupid class tomorrow. If I wake him up, I die. Mom is adamant on him taking the SATs when he turns thirteen. Stupid, huh? Poor kid's wasted his entire childhood."

"Oh," Dib said and repeated Zita's earlier words: "Let's get inside."

"This is stupid," Zita said bitterly and nuzzled her face into the crook of Dib's neck. The two stumbled into each other continuously, bumping their faces and arms. Zita loosened her grip on Dib's hand before squeezing it intensely, because it felt like so much more when it wasn't there at the start.

"It won't be as stupid in the morning," Dib retorted.

"Love you." Zita whispered to Dib's shoulder because it was farther away from his ears, and Zita wasn't sure how much she wanted Dib to hear.

Maybe it was because it gave her an excuse if Dib didn't say it back.

 ~~~~

"You should get a television in here or something," Dib said as they wandered into Zita's pitch black room.

Zita guided the two to the bed; she wasn't about to turn on the light and ruin everything. "Why? Then I'd never leave my room."

Dib shrugged and laid down on Zita's bed, pulling Zita down with their connected hand. The two stared at each other in the darkness, waiting. "Then we could just stay in your room forever, together."

"I'd hate that," Zita said. It was dark; it was always dark.

"Yeah," Dib said quietly, "so would I."

 ~~~~

"Your house is on fire."

"I fucking told you, Zita. I fucking told you."

The two looked out of Zita's window. Flames were engulfing Dib's house. They were the only source of light, leaving behind a horrifyingly beautiful swirl of orange and yellow.

"Should we… should we tell someone? Has your phone rung?"

Dib checked his phone. "No."

"So your dad..?"

"Yeah, Zita. I fucking know. He's dead. So is Gaz."

"Well, you don't know that…" Zita rested her head on Dib's shoulder. Dib was too weary to stop her.

"It's kind of beautiful," Dib said softly. "I wish this wasn't the only way we could have light."

"It's not the only way," Zita said hesitantly.

"Maybe we could just let it burn forever," Dib said, "and never put it out. Just let it burn on and on." Zita stood up and walked to the front of the room.

"That would be scary," Zita said. "We're all used to darkness."

"Yeah," Dib agreed. "Sometimes I think it's better that I can't see your face."

Dib stood up and headed over to Zita, bringing her back to the window. He turned Zita's head to face him. The flames drew enough light to illuminate Zita's features. Her dark hair laid limply on her head; her blue eyes shone with a disgusting source of light, and her full lips were stretched into a frown.

"Sometimes it's better," Dib repeated, and Zita looked away.

 ~~~~

It didn't happen all at once; if it did, it would have been more noticeable. Instead, it slowly deteriorated, leaving everyone to have it nag him or her in the back of his or her mind, wondering if they were the only ones noticing it.

The sun started taking longer to show up in the morning, and it quickly set before dinner. Plants grew weak, and people grew sluggish.

No one was quite sure what happened, but something was blocking the sun. There were enough trickles of light to shine through to save the plants, but no one was sure how much longer it would last. The air was murky and stale, and sometimes, yeah, Zita couldn't breath, but at least some of the time he could, so it wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

Sometimes people and animals and plants just upped and died out of nowhere. People would fall on the streets, gasping for air, their pale skin haunting the minds of bystanders. Their final breath would dribble out, and others would rush toward them, trying to breath in their air, sometimes going as far to place their mouth on the dead body in order to suck the air out.

Animals tumbled over, and others would hurriedly crowd around, ripping flesh and fur off, because it seemed that everyone was on their own now, and Zita was sure animals that used to be mere plant eaters were forced to munch on meat now that plants were slowly going extinct.

Zita wished it would happen already, but God seemed content on watching them leisurely die off with only panic and terror in their minds.

It was worse with Zim; there wasn't any light, so he could sneak around and muck up things. Sometimes he would stab people for their air, and no one could be certain it was him – and they were too afraid to take charge of any sort of stable governing – so he simply slunk around in shadows, waiting; he was always waiting.

 ~~~~

"Do you think we should go over?" Zita asked. "Maybe, make amends or something."

"Not really," Dib admitted. He hung tightly onto the hinges of the windows. "I don't care that much."

"Oh." Zita watched as the flames slowly died. She didn't want to admit it, but Dib's earlier words were correct; the flames were beautiful. She almost wondered if her parents would even notice that it had occurred; it was pretty difficult to notice anything in the darkness. Dib would continue living at Zita's house, which no would notice, or even care about, and no one but Zita and Dib would know what happened to Dib's parents.

It was weird; things probably transpired all the time, and only the people present at the time were aware of it. It was an intricate process to broadcast world news. In fact, there usually wasn't any world news, as the internet was mostly unused by now; it took a week to load half a page, and it simply wasn't worth it, as many didn't use computers, so there wasn't anyone there to actually post the news people wanted to read, but maybe it had never been worth it, and no one had realized it until it was gone.

The television wasn't much better. There wasn't the news anymore; Zita had always wondered if there was something that would disappear while she grew up, and if she tried to tell her future children about it, they would have no clue what she was going on about. Now, however, now, she wasn't sure if she would live long enough to create those future children she didn't want so much anymore. Maybe it was better for people to simply die off, so children and babies wouldn't have to grow up in the horrible world they created for themselves.

The only reason she had any clue whatsoever where Dib was, was because Dib had been staying at her house for about a week. Despite living almost directly next to each other, it was still tricky to find each other – they weren't able to use the internet or cell phones or even phones – and they seemed to rarely visit each other, though Dib had been staying at Zita's house without her family's knowledge for a while now. Zita marveled over whether Dib's family knew that he was sleeping peacefully next door while they were burned alive.

"You're thinking too much," Dib said, out of nowhere. Zita couldn't see him, but he could hear Dib's voice trickle into her left ear. "It's pretty quiet."

Zita didn't like silence anymore. She used to cherish it, considering how noisy her family could be, but now she hated it, because it told her that she was alone, that she was far far away from anyone else, and she hated that.

"Sorry," Zita said quickly, assuring Dib she was still around. "It's a quiet kind of night."

"I think it's day."

"Right. Day."

"Is there something on your mind?" Zita shrugged. "It's not about my family, is it? I told you; I don't care, so why do you?"

"I don't care," Zita insisted. "I can honestly say I don't."

Dib looked at her like she was a monster; Zita wished she knew what to say.

 ~~~~

"We should find Zim."

"Why? So he can discreetly murder us, hoard our belongings, and get away with it? No one's going to know, Zita; no one even knows my dad is dead but us."

"And Gaz," Zita added quietly, because even though she was a bitch, it really wasn't fair that thirteen year old was dead. Then there were all the beautiful children that would never be born. Zita felt tears come to her eyes. She sniffled to keep them in, because she wasn't about to become dehydrated.

Maybe she was a monster.

"Of course," Dib said dryly. "God forbid I forget to mention my little sister in a moment of guilt and anger. Sorry."

There was a second where Dib collected his thoughts and Zita thought she might as well throw himself out of the second floor, because she really didn't know what she was saying anymore.

"Gretchen?"

"She's boring," Dib snapped, with a tone that easily screamed 'fuck you'. He turned away from Zita, hatred in his eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want to go find Zim so you can kill him yourself?" Zita asked softly. She was only trying to think of what would be best for Dib.

Dib's eyes gleamed in the moonlight; they were a greenish brown color and sparkled with contempt and consideration. "Zita…"

"Yes?"

Dib smiled. "Let's go visit Zim." He whipped around and pattered down the stairs eagerly. Zita followed, her body aching with remorse.

 ~~~~

Dib's hair was limp and almost gray because of the lack of sun. Zita had always envied his natural highlights of dark blue and raven, but now none of it mattered. Everything appearance wise that made Dib unique was useless. His personality matched his appearance, and without the latter, he came across merely as a jerk. Without his calm expression and eyes that said he wasn't telling the truth, he was nothing, another nobody.

Zita's appearance had always been almost like a barbie dolls; perfect, pale and flawless. She was the voice, the common ground, but now, without her look, she felt like another face in the crowd; she was never going to be listened to or looked at with jealousy again, because she possessed the timid voice and pause without light. She was honestly terrified of darkness, and so was everyone else, but she was someone who could admit it. She didn't like to sleep, because she wasn't always sure if she would wake up, and if she did, she would open her eyes to complete and total darkness. It was comforting to have Dib's warm body wrapped around her, assuring her that there was still something there.

They were all nobodies without their appearance. Zita knew no one would be able to identify her in the shadows, because people remembered faces and names, not depth and realism.

Chunk probably wasn't as fat, as there wasn't as much food. Poop Chips and Poop Soda weren't even made anymore. Only natural food stood, and even then, Zita didn't feel like eating very often. She didn't like doing anything anymore; she always felt weary; she felt like her legs were going to break simply going down the stairs, or walking down a block. Every day she had at least three stomach aches, and she had grown accustomed to the hollowness, and almost enjoyed it now; at least it proved she was still alive.

"You don't know where Zim is," Zita said quietly; talking loud was too much work.

"I always know where Zim is," Dib corrected, because they both knew the truth, even if Zita didn't want it to be the truth.

Zita stayed quiet; she knew she couldn't change Dib's mind, but she didn't want to go find Zim; she wanted to keep Dib all for herself.

"You must know where he is," Dib started monotonously, "you told me that lie earlier, about hearing him want to burn down my house in history class. Zita, we haven't had class for a month or two at this point. Meaning you've talked to Zim since. So, where is he?"

"You're not really going to kill him, are you?" Zita babbled. She knew she shouldn't have said anything earlier, but the silence had been getting to her, and she thought of anything she could possibly say to engage Dib in some kind of conversation. "I mean, I know some people do it now, but it's still not constitutional. You don't want to be known as a killer, do you? And the worst part is, you won't even be the only one to know you're a killer; you'll know you're a killer; I'll know you're a killer; Zim will know you're a killer.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you yourself would be the only person who was aware of the murder. Then again, that's what drives some criminals insane, isn't it? The fact that you have a secret that no one else does; in general society people don't like keeping secrets; they like telling things, and there's no doubt you would eventually crack and tell someone. How do you think they would react to that? Never in a good way, for sure. And there's always the fact that they know you killed them. It might haunt you; thinking about them realizing they're dying when they are, and not from natural causes, but from another person. You're taking away something precious from someone; life. You can't get that back, and there's no exception for taking one from someone. Maybe you can live with that though; maybe you can live with both you and Zim knowing you killed someone.

"But then what about me? You'll have to go through the day, right next to me, knowing I also know what you did. You told me earlier that you knew I knew where Zim was, right? That means that if Zim mysteriously disappears, I'll know, and I won't immediately think of natural causes, but instead you because you're telling me this right now. If you had kept it a secret, I would have not been drawn to that conclusion, but you're a typical person who has to tell people what you're doing, which brings me back to my previous point; if you do it, three people will already know, and I'm guessing you won't keep it a secret after that."

"Would you just shut up?" Dib snapped. "I get that you're trying to be the voice of reason, but you just need to shut the fuck up! Do you think anyone would even care if I told them I killed someone, let alone Zim? For fuck's sake, they would probably congratulate me! People are dying every second, do you think they would mind having a little bit more of air? I don't think they would. Principles and social norms don't matter in this case, Zita, do you want to know why? Because everyone is dying; the world is probably fucking ending this second, and people are just selfish enough to not care if someone dies, because it'll leave more air and space for them. Just shut up, Zita, because I know you would do exactly the same."

Zita reached for Dib's hand. Dib jerked away, bitter, and hissed, "Just selfish enough."

"Not everyone is selfish," Zita said couldn't find the venom she wanted to place in her words.

"Selfish? Being selfish is putting your needs in front of others. Isn't that what people do every day? Going to lie down in your cozy, warm bed? What about people who are lying on the cold, hard floor without a mere blanket. Aren't you putting your needs ahead of them; you're not helping them out, are you? Eating a tasty lunch? What about all the people who don't even have fresh drinking water; you're putting your needs in front of theirs, aren't you? The only way for you not to be selfish is to be constantly doing things only for others; that's the real definition of living a selfless life. You're not really living then, though, are you? You're not living your life; you're living others'."

Giving in, Zita said: "He's at his house, which is down the block on the left."

Dib gave a small, unconvincing smile and took hold of Zita's hand. "Lead the way."

"At least don't make me do anything," Zita said. Her shoulders were shaking, maybe because they were slowly shutting down, and her muscles were flat out gone, or maybe it was because she was oh so scared of what Dib could really do.

Dib scoffed. "I don't need you to do anything, Zita. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Zita almost puked.

They entered Zim's house. It was dark, and silent. Zita wondered idly why Zim hadn't left; he did, after all, have all that technology stored in his basement. Zita tripped over something as they wandered into the living room. As her shoe hit the thing, it created a somewhat loud thump.

"Ohmigod!" Zita hissed, holding onto Dib's arm for stability. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Dib whispered. He squinted to take a closer look. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

"What?" Zita asked. "What? What?"

"I think it's his neighbor."

Zita puked off to the side.

Maybe they weren't even the firsts to come; there always had been a lot of people tempted to kill Zim, but not his neighbor. Mr. Graff was nice, gentle, amiable, so why would anyone want to kill him?

"Oh, holy fuck," Zita said with a choke. Dib kept his food down, which was a smarter move than Zita had thought of; she probably wasn't even puking food—food was something she didn't even have in her stomach anymore—but probably just stomach acid and spit, which were two things she probably needed at that point. "I think someone—or something—has been eating him."

As Dib took a closer look, he noticed Zita was correct. His left eye was hanging out of its socket, half chewed and bouncing around due to Zita's swift kick to him. His nose had nips and picks out of it, and his left arm had numerous bite marks. His legs were kept fine, but were positioned unnaturally, which was just unnerving enough for Zita, without having any obvious or visual digestion.

"This is disgusting," Dib said. Zita tugged on Dib's hand forcefully. Dib's limp hand swayed in Zita's. "Let's get out of here, please. Someone's already probably killed Zim."

"Killed Zim?"

Zita's head jerked to the left. With a rare sliver of light, Zim's silhouette shone for a brief second. Zita's eyes widened, and she clutched to Dib, who instead, stubbornly stood his ground. "You're still alive, alien?"

Zim nodded, and took a step closer. His antenna poked out from under his wig, which covered most of his eyes, and when he opened his mouth, his teeth were near diminished. He looked as bad as everyone else, but he somehow seemed worse in Zita's eyes. There was something about him that was simply more miserable and pathetic than the rest of them, and even though Zita had never wanted him dead, he wanted him even less dead now. "You want to kill me?"

Swallowing, Dib replied: "It's not like anyone would miss you. Look; the only person who ever cared about you is stone cold dead."

The neighbor was nice, but was obsessed with aliens. He wanted them to win, and he had always said so. This was why he liked Zim.

"I know," Zim said simply. "I killed him."

Zita puked again.

"And I ate him." He grinned. "He was delicious."

"Dib," Zita begged, "Please. Let's please. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here."

"No," Dib said, inching closer. "He wants a fight, he'll get a goddamn fight. I've been waiting for a fight to the death since the day we met."

Zim smirked. "Likewise, Zim."

"Dib!" Zita shrieked. "I don't want to be here anymore!"

Zita slipped a bit in her own puke, and clawed at Dib for balance. She tugged Dib down a few feet, cowering in the dark.

Zim turned to Zita. "Well, Zita-human. It looks as though you revealed where I was, didn't you? I think it would only be fair to murder you after the Dib's gruesome death."

"Leave her alone," Dib spit. "She didn't do anything, and even if she did, it would be understandable. You're a disgusting person."

"Oh, I'm a disgusting person? Says the filthy monkey who wants murder."

"It would be doing everyone a favor."

Zim laughed. "Everyone? Everyone. Everyone is dead, stupid hyu-men. You're the first two people I've seen for a week. Graff-stink? He's been dead for almost two. Yeah, that's what that smell is. I don't even feel shame. He let me, you know? In fact, he encouraged it. 'Oh, Zim, my lord alien! I don't want you to starve. Just kill me, and eat me. Please, for the love of God. Do it. Rule the world when you're done!'"

Zita's breathing quickened.

"He's the last person I've seen excluding you two. Haven't you idiot humans noticed? Your parents, they aren't there, are they?" He smirked in the darkness. "Dib, I know for a fact your family isn't around, and I'm guessing Zita's aren't, either, or you wouldn't be here right now. I suppose if you want, though, you can kill me. Or at least, try. I don't believe you'll succeed, but try all you want; tire yourselves out all you want; in the end, it's just all more air and space for me."

Dib sighed.

"Are you rethinking this?" Zita asked in his ear.

"Of course not," Dib whispered back. "I've always hated him. Always."

Zita pecked Dib on the check before going back to dry heaving. "Do whatever you want so we can just get out of here. I think Graff is starting to decompose, Jesus."

"Do it," Zim challenged. "Fucking do it already."

Zim never cursed

"No," Dib finally said.

"No?" Zita breathed.

Dib shook his head. "No. This is what he wants. He wants me to kill him, so he won't have to die slowly, painfully. Well, I won't do it. He can burn in Hell for all of eternity in the worst way imaginable." He glanced over at Zita. "Let's go."

"Okay," Zita said in a soft voice and followed Dib out of the house; Zim didn't try to stop them, but that seemed given. "Dib?"

Dib was silent for a long time as they fumbled around and into Zita's house, collapsing on the ever so comforting couch. It was comforting because they always knew where it was; it never moved, even if they did. "Yes?"

"Do you really think my parents are dead?"

Dib turned to look at Zita. "Do I really think your parents are dead? You're kidding, right, Zita? I watched as my house burned up into nothingness, knowing my family was in there, dying. And now you're wobbling about whether or not you know if your family is still alive? At least there's still a chance that they're living, and breathing, and knowing of your existence.

"My family didn't even die from natural causes. I'd like to think maybe it was better that way, so they didn't have to slowly deteriorate, and so I didn't have to watch their miserable, sluggish movements, but you know what? Maybe it's not. Maybe it's not better to be burned alive in a goddamn fire, knowing your dying, but not knowing why, and knowing you'll never be able to say the goodbyes you've always wanted, and needed, to make.

"They probably thought I died in that, along with them, at least together, together like always, at last. But no, I was kicking it up at Zita's house. I should have died in that fire with my family; it's where I belong. I don't belong here, with you, with you and your living self. Jesus, Zita, I liked you better before the fucking sun disappeared."

Zita winced, because she knew how to lie, too, but she didn't go around showing off her skills. "I never liked you."

"Shut up," Dib said roughly. His voice held fear; it held the same kind of fear everyone and anyone had when their self-worth was being challenged. He yanked on Zita's arm. "Let's just go back to your goddamn shitty house."

Zita nodded and looked away; even in the dark she couldn't look at Dib.

"Mom?" Zita called out. "Dad? Tony?"

No one answered. She called out their names a second time, but it was quieter than before. There was no soft, calming and soothing voice of reason that came from her mother, or a drunk voice of stupidity his father held, and there wasn't a startled yelp from Tony that Zita was beginning to miss. Her house was quieter, creepier, than Zim's had been, even with Dib standing solemnly next to her.

Tears prickled at her eyes, and she hated crying, because it just ruined everything in the fact that they were already running out of water, and that she didn't want to look like a baby when the world was goddamn ending, because that was when keeping appearances up mattered the most, even if no one would admit it. "I kind of knew they were dead, but I never questioned it, because then I would have to think about it, and I really didn't want to do that, because then I was acknowledging it, meaning it existed. Meaning they didn't."

Dib held her hand, and he seemed so free and resigned that it made Zita angry to know him, but mostly sad, and resigned herself, because she didn't know how much longer she could hold on; she didn't know how much longer she was supposed to hold on. "I know. But now, it's all ours."

"No, it's not," Zita said in between sobs. "There's Zim."

Dib was silent. He turned to Zita and kissed her slowly. He pushed her over to the abandoned couch and kissed her, pulling her closer, closer, closer. Zita felt her tears mix together with Dib's as they tugged at each other painfully desperately, and as close as they could squish just wasn't close enough.

 ~~~~

"I think it's getting darker," Zita said in the morning, or maybe it was night, or whatever. She snuggled close to Dib, who didn't seem to share the same amount of enthusiasm. He sat stiffly as Zita curled up into him, wanting, needing, the comfort. "Or maybe it's just me. I don't know."

"I don't know," Dib said back. "I don't know anything."

"I think Zim is dead," Zita said and bowed her head. "He looked really sickly when we visited him, and he's not horrible enough to keep living on Graff. He said he had died almost two weeks ago, and it looks like he hardly touched him. He's probably just as devastated as we are. Besides, he was never in good shape, so it would make sense that he just dropped down and died, wouldn't it."

"Shut up," Dib gritted. "I don't care. I don't give a shit about what happens to Zim now or ever. I don't ever want to hear another word about him."

Zita closed his mouth. It was what she wanted; she wanted Dib to forget Zim—forever—finally, and it was what she got, so why did she feel so damn unaccomplished?

Dib threw her a loving look. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Zita slowly shook her head, because who wanted to be mad at the last person on earth. "Do you think we really are the last people on earth?"

Dib shrugged. "If we are, thank God it's you I'm spending the rest of my life with."

Zita managed a smile, even if Dib was lying.

"I'm really tired," Zita said. She looked ready to yawn, if she merely possessed such energy.

Dib looked over at her. She had always been pale, but more so lately. She blinked back at Dib wearily. Dib gave a comforting smile, one that was hesitant in the realism of itself. "I'm tired, too."

"No, you're just saying that," Zita said, because Dib was, but Zita wasn't supposed to know that.

"I'm not," Dib insisted.

"I'm really hungry." Zita changed the subject. "Is there anything left in the cupboards?"

"I doubt it," Dib said with a hopeless sigh.

When everything had started—honestly started, not just the quiet worry everyone had been holding in for so long—Zita's dad foolishly raided the pantry, thinking it would only last for a short time.

Zita's dad would only last for a short time.

"Can we check anyway?"

"Why bother using excess energy?" Dib asked.

Zita grimaced, but stood up. "Okay, I'll do it. Just wait here. If I find anything, I'll bring it back to you."

She rummaged through the cupboards, panic-stricken for reasons she wasn't sure of; she had almost come to accept the sun vanishing, yet there was suddenly a part of her scared half to death.

If only the other half could come along so it would just be over.

She collected a few random nuts—peanuts, cashews, if she wasn't hallucinating—and some stale crackers. She diligently brought them back over to Dib, who was lounging on the couch.

"Here," she said, and divided up the rations.

Dib slowly munched the cashews. "Food tastes really good all of a sudden. Kind of, not really. I mean, it's something, but I haven't had anything in so long that I just can't take it anymore. I'd eat the floor; I'd eat the couch."

"It really doesn't taste good," Zita lied. "I think it's been so long I don't even like the taste of food anymore." She looked at the mouth-watering food clutched in her hand. She squeezed it before letting her hand rest out in front of Dib. "You might as well eat it if I'm not even going to enjoy it."

Dib stared at her warily, but took the food eventually. He wolfed it down, and maybe a tear ran down Zita's cheek, but she hoped not, because it felt like she was starting to become a bit dehydrated.

She listened to Dib's slow heartbeat after he fell asleep. The two had tangled into each other on the couch, because it was a safe haven, and it was so warm, and everything was always so cold now. They piled blanket after blanket on top of each other—Zita selflessly walked up and down and up and down the stairs to retrieve blanket after blanket to throw over Dib and the couch until they possessed a pile much too big, so Zita just jumped in, and they curled up, and covered their heads, and pretended it was all just a fun game.

 ~~~~

It was morning. It was morning and there was something so off and bright about the morning that Zita's eyes snapped open immediately. There was light; light was flooding the house, the room, everything.

Zita's eyes ached and she glanced at Dib next to her. He wasn't moving, and Zita didn't know what was going on, but she couldn't stay there any longer, she had to leave, leave, leave.

She ran outside and threw her arms out beside her. She squinted his eyes and grabbed messily around for something. It was blinding; the sun was so blinding she couldn't see anything—she could never see anything, never—and she didn't see anything, and she didn't want to see anything, so she just stared into the bright, colorless light.

 ~~~~

End.

**Author's Note:**

> All I have to say is that I support pairings no one's heard of.
> 
> First fanfiction on this site, woot-woot!
> 
> Still getting used to the HTML of this site and all that, so if you see any mistakes, tell me and I'll... I dunno... Throw cookies at you or something.
> 
> ...
> 
> This was really fucking long.


End file.
